Or roof repairers. Whatever. Call me an elitist snob but I Hate Them. It was supposed to take 1 or 2 days (at most). Day 2 was a Saturday. I realized Saturday afternoon that a mirror had fallen off my wall and a smoke detector is hanging by a precarious thread, threatening to hit me on the head in one of my mad dashes up the stairs to the restroom, which will result in one or both of the following: 1) a fall back down the stairs and/or 2) me pissing myself. Nice, eh? I also realized last night that my bed and nightstands have shifted noticeably and now stand at some kind of crazy 45 degree angle from the wall they were so equally balanced against.
Oh and at 6:22 a.m. this morning when I was so rudely jarred awake by the sound of Apocolypse Now (in the form of my roof caving in)? Yeah, I really hated them then.
I cannot express how much I wanted to remove the kazillion foot ladder (their only way up and down to the roof) this morning when I left for work. I wanted to kick it over and watch it land on the ground, all loud and long, and look up at the rooftop where the sweaty, noisy, asshole workers would be looking down at the crazy, hysterical-with-laughter girl below.
Screw you, roofer people.
Showing posts with label sleep deprivation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sleep deprivation. Show all posts
Monday, August 17, 2009
Thursday, August 13, 2009
What happens in Vegas...
gets posted on my blog. Unfortunately I left before Bill had his bday party, but I suppose it couldn't be helped.
Here's a brief rundown of my stay in Sin City:
Thursday night - Arrived in Vegas and at G's insistence, ate at some horrid $5.99 for steak and eggs restaurant, and got caught in a crazy, sandstorm. I couldn't see through the smoke filled casinos and accidentally walked right into the swirling dirt. It was very surreal and felt too David Lynch for my tastes.
Friday Morning - Got up early and went horseback riding in Red Rock Canyon. (One would assume that since I'm from Texas I know how to ride a horse. That would be a bad assumption. I rode horses when I was little and with bigger, older people and the experiences only created vague enough memories to assure me I'd done it.) I rode the hugest horse evah! Her name was June (I assumed as in Cleaver but turns out it was short for Junebug). G's horse was tiny and he looked like he was riding a donkey next to me and my Clydesdale. Turns out getting oneself into a horse saddle is quite the complicated endeavor. As my horse's belly came to about my chin, I considered it quite the feat that I was able to put my left foot in the left foot saddle thing (what's that called?). With my foot raised almost above my head, I looked at the horse wrangler guy and asked him what to do next. He suggested, politely, that I grab the horse horn thing (on the saddle) and pull myself up and swing my right leg over the horse to put my right foot in the right foot saddle thing. Here's me - uh, wha? Did I mention my horse refused to stay still and I was left hopping around with my one leg that was still precariously on the ground while my other foot was in the foot saddle? It was very natural and not at all uncomfortable and terrifying. Luckily the horse wrangler had the vision to see the pure "what the fuck are you talking about horse boy?" look on my face and helped me up onto the giant horse. After mounting the beast, the rest was smooth sailing. Except for the shit and piss parts. Horses do that a lot. It's gross. My ass was sore pretty much the rest of Vegas, but the scenery was beautiful and I convinced my horse to trot a few times so I think it was worthwhile.
Friday Afternoon/Evening - Ate a place called the Burger Bar that had a truffle hamburger. It looked awesome but cost $60, so it was only for oohhing and aaahhing over. We spent the evening downtown (hurrah Golden Nugget!) and had a blast. That's definitely the fun place for gambling in Vegas. No one takes themselves too seriously and it's got all the cheap tables.
Saturday Morning - I hit the pool! Anyone who knows at all knows that I am not a pool person. I bemoan almost all sun exposure and slather the spf on at all possible times. But I chose a chair in the shade, it was cool enough that I kept my sweater on while I was there, and it was so damn peaceful that it made me think that maybe I've missed the mark on my anti-pool stance. The only thing that would have made it better was if I had a fruity beverage to drink, but I figured it was too early in the morning to start all that.
Saturday Afternoon - I met G at a buffet at the Paris. Apparently it's supposed to be good. G gave it a 7/10 but only because he couldn't eat all the crab and shrimp stuff (he's allergic). Otherwise he said it was a 9/10. Personally I've been to that buffet before and it's where S and I named our food babies "Mimosa." No explanation needed really. Then I left G and decided to participate at a poker! tournament! I was so excited - you have no idea. I paid my entry fee and was the 2nd person out at my table. In case you don't know poker, that's bad. In a huff, I decided to win my entry fee back at the slot machines. I lost more money. Boo. Then I decided to leave the swarthy gambling arenas and go see some high art. The Bellagio has a fine art museum and the exhibit was a small but awesome Lichtenstein, Warhol and Friends soiree. It helped to soothe the savage beast within (I hate losing - even at gambling), and I spent the rest of the afternoon softly mewing over the beauties of modern art. Okay, that's not true at all. Modern art makes me laugh (at not with the art and artists) and I actually spent the afternoon feeling morally superior to the idiots who make the audio guide (or written guides for that matter) to modern art exhibits.
Saturday Evening - Saw Ka!, a Cirque de Soleil show and it was freaking awesome. Spent the rest of the evening at some bar, lost G for about half an hour, found G, and found some cage fighters. Not at the same time. Fun evening.
Sunday Day - slept late. Ate at Serendipity by myself with my lovely, lovely book (I'm reading The Time Traveler's Wife for the 2nd time and it's way better on the 2nd read) and had tomato soup with goldfish crackers! I love Serendipity. I also attempted a piece of cheesecake later on in the day (what? I was on vacation), and the piece that came to my table was bigger than my head. I read the menu a little closer and read that it was suitable for 2 people, but I'm guessing more like 6. I made such a small dent in it that the server thought I was unhappy with it. To prove I wasn't, I pointed out how I'd eaten all the whipped cream off the top of the cheesecake, which I guess, to his credit, wasn't exactly evidence of the deliciousness of the cheesecake itself but it was just too damn big! Who can eat that much cheesecake? In between the two Serendipity visits, I sat down at a poker table in another casino. I decided to try my hand at a cash game this time instead of a tournament. It worked out much better and I walked away after a couple of hours even, which was a nice change from my last attempt the day before. I visited the Forum Shops and decided I was way too spirtually wealthy to need any of that vain, commercial crap. (Read: I wanted to save my money for flitting away at the casinos in the evening instead since it was my last night.)
Sunday Night - Saw Penn & Teller, got my tix autographed, and took my picture with both of them. They rocked. They were hilarious and smart. What more can you ask for? We were leaving Vegas at 6:30 a.m., so we decided to spend the entire night out and about. G went to the stuff he liked and once again, I decided to give poker another shot. It was quite the good decision, if I do say so myself. I made a table full of big, strong men weep into their dwindling pile of chips. I bought in at the minimum buy-in, because above all else, I'm superbly cheap, and I nursed my tiny stack of chips until my moment came. Once I'd doubled up, I played a little looser and all those boys who told me to stick by them, that they would help me? walked away empty-handed when I took all their money. And did I mention there was a professional player at the table? I won't say his name (mainly because I don't remember it and don't feel like looking him up although I could 'cause he's on tv and shit), but I took half his stack as well. And yes, it felt good. Eat that, male-dominated semi-sport. And I only stopped short from wiping the whole table clean because I had to leave for the airport. I also got in quite the, um, "debate" over how amazing (or in their cases how unamazing) T.O. is, but I feel I've called it on this one. We'll see, poker boys, we'll see.
Monday Morning/Afternoon/Night - got lost in a haze of crazy dreams and sleep-addled wanderings as I made my way back to the ATX.
So here you have it. My first post back is a grand diatribe on the ins and outs of a Vegas trip that only I'm interested in. I hope all you encouragers and well-wishers are happy.
Here's a brief rundown of my stay in Sin City:
Thursday night - Arrived in Vegas and at G's insistence, ate at some horrid $5.99 for steak and eggs restaurant, and got caught in a crazy, sandstorm. I couldn't see through the smoke filled casinos and accidentally walked right into the swirling dirt. It was very surreal and felt too David Lynch for my tastes.
Friday Morning - Got up early and went horseback riding in Red Rock Canyon. (One would assume that since I'm from Texas I know how to ride a horse. That would be a bad assumption. I rode horses when I was little and with bigger, older people and the experiences only created vague enough memories to assure me I'd done it.) I rode the hugest horse evah! Her name was June (I assumed as in Cleaver but turns out it was short for Junebug). G's horse was tiny and he looked like he was riding a donkey next to me and my Clydesdale. Turns out getting oneself into a horse saddle is quite the complicated endeavor. As my horse's belly came to about my chin, I considered it quite the feat that I was able to put my left foot in the left foot saddle thing (what's that called?). With my foot raised almost above my head, I looked at the horse wrangler guy and asked him what to do next. He suggested, politely, that I grab the horse horn thing (on the saddle) and pull myself up and swing my right leg over the horse to put my right foot in the right foot saddle thing. Here's me - uh, wha? Did I mention my horse refused to stay still and I was left hopping around with my one leg that was still precariously on the ground while my other foot was in the foot saddle? It was very natural and not at all uncomfortable and terrifying. Luckily the horse wrangler had the vision to see the pure "what the fuck are you talking about horse boy?" look on my face and helped me up onto the giant horse. After mounting the beast, the rest was smooth sailing. Except for the shit and piss parts. Horses do that a lot. It's gross. My ass was sore pretty much the rest of Vegas, but the scenery was beautiful and I convinced my horse to trot a few times so I think it was worthwhile.
Friday Afternoon/Evening - Ate a place called the Burger Bar that had a truffle hamburger. It looked awesome but cost $60, so it was only for oohhing and aaahhing over. We spent the evening downtown (hurrah Golden Nugget!) and had a blast. That's definitely the fun place for gambling in Vegas. No one takes themselves too seriously and it's got all the cheap tables.
Saturday Morning - I hit the pool! Anyone who knows at all knows that I am not a pool person. I bemoan almost all sun exposure and slather the spf on at all possible times. But I chose a chair in the shade, it was cool enough that I kept my sweater on while I was there, and it was so damn peaceful that it made me think that maybe I've missed the mark on my anti-pool stance. The only thing that would have made it better was if I had a fruity beverage to drink, but I figured it was too early in the morning to start all that.
Saturday Afternoon - I met G at a buffet at the Paris. Apparently it's supposed to be good. G gave it a 7/10 but only because he couldn't eat all the crab and shrimp stuff (he's allergic). Otherwise he said it was a 9/10. Personally I've been to that buffet before and it's where S and I named our food babies "Mimosa." No explanation needed really. Then I left G and decided to participate at a poker! tournament! I was so excited - you have no idea. I paid my entry fee and was the 2nd person out at my table. In case you don't know poker, that's bad. In a huff, I decided to win my entry fee back at the slot machines. I lost more money. Boo. Then I decided to leave the swarthy gambling arenas and go see some high art. The Bellagio has a fine art museum and the exhibit was a small but awesome Lichtenstein, Warhol and Friends soiree. It helped to soothe the savage beast within (I hate losing - even at gambling), and I spent the rest of the afternoon softly mewing over the beauties of modern art. Okay, that's not true at all. Modern art makes me laugh (at not with the art and artists) and I actually spent the afternoon feeling morally superior to the idiots who make the audio guide (or written guides for that matter) to modern art exhibits.
Saturday Evening - Saw Ka!, a Cirque de Soleil show and it was freaking awesome. Spent the rest of the evening at some bar, lost G for about half an hour, found G, and found some cage fighters. Not at the same time. Fun evening.
Sunday Day - slept late. Ate at Serendipity by myself with my lovely, lovely book (I'm reading The Time Traveler's Wife for the 2nd time and it's way better on the 2nd read) and had tomato soup with goldfish crackers! I love Serendipity. I also attempted a piece of cheesecake later on in the day (what? I was on vacation), and the piece that came to my table was bigger than my head. I read the menu a little closer and read that it was suitable for 2 people, but I'm guessing more like 6. I made such a small dent in it that the server thought I was unhappy with it. To prove I wasn't, I pointed out how I'd eaten all the whipped cream off the top of the cheesecake, which I guess, to his credit, wasn't exactly evidence of the deliciousness of the cheesecake itself but it was just too damn big! Who can eat that much cheesecake? In between the two Serendipity visits, I sat down at a poker table in another casino. I decided to try my hand at a cash game this time instead of a tournament. It worked out much better and I walked away after a couple of hours even, which was a nice change from my last attempt the day before. I visited the Forum Shops and decided I was way too spirtually wealthy to need any of that vain, commercial crap. (Read: I wanted to save my money for flitting away at the casinos in the evening instead since it was my last night.)
Sunday Night - Saw Penn & Teller, got my tix autographed, and took my picture with both of them. They rocked. They were hilarious and smart. What more can you ask for? We were leaving Vegas at 6:30 a.m., so we decided to spend the entire night out and about. G went to the stuff he liked and once again, I decided to give poker another shot. It was quite the good decision, if I do say so myself. I made a table full of big, strong men weep into their dwindling pile of chips. I bought in at the minimum buy-in, because above all else, I'm superbly cheap, and I nursed my tiny stack of chips until my moment came. Once I'd doubled up, I played a little looser and all those boys who told me to stick by them, that they would help me? walked away empty-handed when I took all their money. And did I mention there was a professional player at the table? I won't say his name (mainly because I don't remember it and don't feel like looking him up although I could 'cause he's on tv and shit), but I took half his stack as well. And yes, it felt good. Eat that, male-dominated semi-sport. And I only stopped short from wiping the whole table clean because I had to leave for the airport. I also got in quite the, um, "debate" over how amazing (or in their cases how unamazing) T.O. is, but I feel I've called it on this one. We'll see, poker boys, we'll see.
Monday Morning/Afternoon/Night - got lost in a haze of crazy dreams and sleep-addled wanderings as I made my way back to the ATX.
So here you have it. My first post back is a grand diatribe on the ins and outs of a Vegas trip that only I'm interested in. I hope all you encouragers and well-wishers are happy.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
In honor of Rana...
I've decided to discuss my last few days, which have been... oddly satisfying and disconcerting, all in one.
Thursday - work until I feel the need to go to bed for the night. A) that's late and B) that's too late to be working. I had to skip a lovely outing I'd looked forward to all week because of all the work. Boo to work.
Friday - get up much earlier than usual and go back to work. Work until I feel the need to eat dinner. The bf beats me to my house for our usual weekend ritual of yummy Indian food. (This is a huge shocker, because he's almost always the one with the later time schedule, forcing me to wait on his sorry ass.) After a lovely glass of wine and like two bites of dinner (not hungry after all the work, I guess?), we head over to the Chandi's and drink more wine. It was lovely until one part of the Chandi decided to go to bed early to be up for her early morning run (hmph - marathoners are really, really annoying). Sorry B but it's true!
Saturday - um... was there a Saturday? I have no memory of it.
Sunday - drove over to SJM's old house for the last time *sigh* and managed to steal the female half of the duo for a lovely trip to Target. As payback, I helped unpack at the new house and realized that there is such a thing as too much vinegar.
Monday - Worked so frantically I forgot to eat food. If you know me at all, you know that is incredibly unlikely. Got out THE WORK PRODUCT of the century about 4:45 Monday afternoon. Had wishes and needs crushed by big boss soon thereafter. Still proud of THE WORK PRODUCT of the century though.
Tuesday - Got to work absurdly early to attend hearing related to THE WORK PRODUCT of the century. Hearing supposed to be done by lunch, ends up going until 4 where, wishes and needs reinvigorated when THE WORK PRODUCT of the century gets mentioned and although I couldn't see the other side, I'm fairly certain heads snapped and eyes agogged. Oh and the hearing went exactly the way our side wanted it to. Bad guys defeated! Went back to work and stayed long enough to hear that THE WORK PRODUCT of the century is officially THE WORK PRODUCT of the century. It's not just in my head. And the guy in our other office who doesn't even know your name if you don't have cocknballs? Yeah, he called THE WORK PRODUCT of the century aggressive. In a good way. While it was cool, it was weird, because what do I care what he thinks? Conundrum. Oh yeah, drank wine and have carpet picnic with the girls. Missed Barack and fell asleep before I could finish hearing what Keith O. thought about it. Sad.
Wednesday (today) - Am confused that it's not Thursday all day. Receive accolades in the form of an ALL CAPS! email, a few phone calls, and a news article that gets it all wrong for THE WORK PRODUCT of the year. Decide to cut the workload considerably post 4 o'clock, hence the current post.
It's been a good few days and oh my god do I need a nap. And quite possibly a trophy.
Thursday - work until I feel the need to go to bed for the night. A) that's late and B) that's too late to be working. I had to skip a lovely outing I'd looked forward to all week because of all the work. Boo to work.
Friday - get up much earlier than usual and go back to work. Work until I feel the need to eat dinner. The bf beats me to my house for our usual weekend ritual of yummy Indian food. (This is a huge shocker, because he's almost always the one with the later time schedule, forcing me to wait on his sorry ass.) After a lovely glass of wine and like two bites of dinner (not hungry after all the work, I guess?), we head over to the Chandi's and drink more wine. It was lovely until one part of the Chandi decided to go to bed early to be up for her early morning run (hmph - marathoners are really, really annoying). Sorry B but it's true!
Saturday - um... was there a Saturday? I have no memory of it.
Sunday - drove over to SJM's old house for the last time *sigh* and managed to steal the female half of the duo for a lovely trip to Target. As payback, I helped unpack at the new house and realized that there is such a thing as too much vinegar.
Monday - Worked so frantically I forgot to eat food. If you know me at all, you know that is incredibly unlikely. Got out THE WORK PRODUCT of the century about 4:45 Monday afternoon. Had wishes and needs crushed by big boss soon thereafter. Still proud of THE WORK PRODUCT of the century though.
Tuesday - Got to work absurdly early to attend hearing related to THE WORK PRODUCT of the century. Hearing supposed to be done by lunch, ends up going until 4 where, wishes and needs reinvigorated when THE WORK PRODUCT of the century gets mentioned and although I couldn't see the other side, I'm fairly certain heads snapped and eyes agogged. Oh and the hearing went exactly the way our side wanted it to. Bad guys defeated! Went back to work and stayed long enough to hear that THE WORK PRODUCT of the century is officially THE WORK PRODUCT of the century. It's not just in my head. And the guy in our other office who doesn't even know your name if you don't have cocknballs? Yeah, he called THE WORK PRODUCT of the century aggressive. In a good way. While it was cool, it was weird, because what do I care what he thinks? Conundrum. Oh yeah, drank wine and have carpet picnic with the girls. Missed Barack and fell asleep before I could finish hearing what Keith O. thought about it. Sad.
Wednesday (today) - Am confused that it's not Thursday all day. Receive accolades in the form of an ALL CAPS! email, a few phone calls, and a news article that gets it all wrong for THE WORK PRODUCT of the year. Decide to cut the workload considerably post 4 o'clock, hence the current post.
It's been a good few days and oh my god do I need a nap. And quite possibly a trophy.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Is there such a thing as a love scrooge?
God how I hate Valentine's Day. Even if it's just the day before. One more time: Valentine's Day sucks balls. And not in a good way.
Friday, September 19, 2008
I Hate Hurricanes.
And I've never approved of Ike as a real name either. While most of my family and my friends and their families came away from Ike with relative minor damage (no electricity, boiling water, minor flood damage, fences knocked down, chimney splits in two, roof peeled up in the corner, roof ripped off, 50+ year-old trees completely gone, cars crushed, etc., etc., etc.), some people got really sucker-punched.
As I've mentioned before I'm natural disaster sensitive. I blame Katrina. Ever since those first dreams of floods, every tornado, earthquake, tsunami, and gentle breeze that got media coverage has made its way into my nightmares. Ike is no exception. I'm declaring today that the nightmares will stop. I will no longer dream about drifting out to sea on a leftover piece of roof, about cats being stranded in trees, and a building crashing in around me while I'm attempting to call my mother (now a recurring nightmare). I'm declaring myself free from these horrors.
While I'm in the dream-demanding mood, I'll take a few more about Brad Pitt, thank you very much.
And yet another casualty of Ike? My dear Astros. May they kick some Pirate ass! (And may the Phillies kick some Marlin ass (two birds and all), the Braves some Mets ass, and the Reds some Brewers ass. Whew. That's a lot of teams to count on at one time...
As I've mentioned before I'm natural disaster sensitive. I blame Katrina. Ever since those first dreams of floods, every tornado, earthquake, tsunami, and gentle breeze that got media coverage has made its way into my nightmares. Ike is no exception. I'm declaring today that the nightmares will stop. I will no longer dream about drifting out to sea on a leftover piece of roof, about cats being stranded in trees, and a building crashing in around me while I'm attempting to call my mother (now a recurring nightmare). I'm declaring myself free from these horrors.
While I'm in the dream-demanding mood, I'll take a few more about Brad Pitt, thank you very much.
And yet another casualty of Ike? My dear Astros. May they kick some Pirate ass! (And may the Phillies kick some Marlin ass (two birds and all), the Braves some Mets ass, and the Reds some Brewers ass. Whew. That's a lot of teams to count on at one time...
Monday, August 25, 2008
Ding dong, the Olympics are dead.
I love the Olympics as much as the next anti-nationalist gal. It's the only time I can truly get excited about the American flag, the national anthem, and random chants of "USA!" That said, I'm so glad they're over. Truthfully I'm so incredibly sleep-deprived from the event that I could be bordering on delirious. Last night was the first night I've slept more than 5 hours in over a week.
Here are some highlights/random thoughts about the whole experience:
1) Do Nastia Lukin's legs bend outward? (I got into a point and shout match with a couple of friends over this one. They couldn't see and everytime one of her legs bent inside out, I pointed and shouted, "See? Right there! Those should not be concave from that angle!" It was awesome.)
2) It's that damn Phelps squiggly kid again. I get he's got more medals than all the African countries put together but if a person has no knowledge base with which to compare the greatness of a mess of medals, does it really matter? Meaning - how the hell can so many freaking people give a rat's ass about this weirdo swimmer guy?
3) Except in the case of that amazing relay. That was straight up awesome.
4) I'm only a fan of basketball in All-Star game situations, i.e. the Redeem Team (dumb name though). And when I'm a fan I'm also suddenly an expert. It's only annoying to those people in the room who aren't me.
5) Gymnastics rules. Unless it's on a trampoline or uses a hula hoop. Then it's just dumb.
6) Speaking of gymnastics, how do those girls not have the worst shin splints in the world? Mysterious...
7) I'm secretly in love with Usain Bolt. He's too quick for me to catch up to him though. Get it? Quick? 'Cause he's, um, fast? Whatever. Nonetheless that dude seriously made the other runners look like they were mall walking. When he wasn't showboating and you could tell he was crazy nervous, he made me love him just a tiny bit more. USAin! What? It's similar.
8) What I wouldn't give to be a fly on one of the many walls at the Athlete's Village. Heard those folks got all kinds of busy.
9) How exactly do you break a sweat playing ping pong? And why isn't it called ping pong?
10) Way to make a girl feel old - change the rules to volleyball since she last played it (in junior high).
11) Why is beach volleyball an Olympic sport? I can't stand it on the beach and I especially can't fucking stand it on tv. Shoot me if I hear another commentator talk about hard it is to leap and jump from the sand. You know what would make leaping and jumping easier for you freaks? Being indoors on a real gym floor, that's what. Shut up.
12) Listening to boxing commentators is probably the most hilarious thing I've ever done (in the last 2-3 days). And I quote: "You better learn how to fight if your mom makes you wear a dress. Or run." But all in this slightly insane high-pitched Jersey accent. He was talking about a boy, in case you didn't put it together. It was damn funny.
Here's hoping the Dem Convention will be just as entertaining! MSNBC, here I come. Keith O better rule that jackass Chris Matthews or I'll be pissed.
Here are some highlights/random thoughts about the whole experience:
1) Do Nastia Lukin's legs bend outward? (I got into a point and shout match with a couple of friends over this one. They couldn't see and everytime one of her legs bent inside out, I pointed and shouted, "See? Right there! Those should not be concave from that angle!" It was awesome.)
2) It's that damn Phelps squiggly kid again. I get he's got more medals than all the African countries put together but if a person has no knowledge base with which to compare the greatness of a mess of medals, does it really matter? Meaning - how the hell can so many freaking people give a rat's ass about this weirdo swimmer guy?
3) Except in the case of that amazing relay. That was straight up awesome.
4) I'm only a fan of basketball in All-Star game situations, i.e. the Redeem Team (dumb name though). And when I'm a fan I'm also suddenly an expert. It's only annoying to those people in the room who aren't me.
5) Gymnastics rules. Unless it's on a trampoline or uses a hula hoop. Then it's just dumb.
6) Speaking of gymnastics, how do those girls not have the worst shin splints in the world? Mysterious...
7) I'm secretly in love with Usain Bolt. He's too quick for me to catch up to him though. Get it? Quick? 'Cause he's, um, fast? Whatever. Nonetheless that dude seriously made the other runners look like they were mall walking. When he wasn't showboating and you could tell he was crazy nervous, he made me love him just a tiny bit more. USAin! What? It's similar.
8) What I wouldn't give to be a fly on one of the many walls at the Athlete's Village. Heard those folks got all kinds of busy.
9) How exactly do you break a sweat playing ping pong? And why isn't it called ping pong?
10) Way to make a girl feel old - change the rules to volleyball since she last played it (in junior high).
11) Why is beach volleyball an Olympic sport? I can't stand it on the beach and I especially can't fucking stand it on tv. Shoot me if I hear another commentator talk about hard it is to leap and jump from the sand. You know what would make leaping and jumping easier for you freaks? Being indoors on a real gym floor, that's what. Shut up.
12) Listening to boxing commentators is probably the most hilarious thing I've ever done (in the last 2-3 days). And I quote: "You better learn how to fight if your mom makes you wear a dress. Or run." But all in this slightly insane high-pitched Jersey accent. He was talking about a boy, in case you didn't put it together. It was damn funny.
Here's hoping the Dem Convention will be just as entertaining! MSNBC, here I come. Keith O better rule that jackass Chris Matthews or I'll be pissed.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Sleep is a luxury.
I've been living on a lack of sleep for the past few weeks. At first I really felt it. You know, tired all the time, sleepy, etc. Now I barely notice. Getting 2 or 4 hours of sleep doesn't phase me at all anymore. One day this week I went to bed at 3 a.m., the next at 5 a.m., and last night, at about 1:30 a.m. (damn All Star game!) I decided to take an Excedrin PM since I was in no way tired.
Turns out that shit makes you weepy tired and then keeps you up all night hearing things. (I'm not at all about to admit it was possibly all the ghost shows I've been watching or the ants in my bathroom that made me soul-jarringly awake when I heard weird noises last night. It must have been the meds.) As a result I saw, or rather listened with eyes tightly shut, Sports Center about 5,000 times last night. I had to turn on the tv to shut out all the craziness in my head/ears.
To the delight of Regis' red pants on Regis & Kelly, I came in late to work today. Oops. Apparently Excedrin PM works much like my own sleep cycle - stay up all night only to really, really kick in about 7 a.m. Perhaps sleep is a defense mechanism for me, like my body is trying to tell me that the night is a good time - let's play! - but the morning is sleepy time, so don't you dare go to work, it's sleepy, sleepy time.
Luckily I'll be here until the cows come home (what time is that, exactly?), so it doesn't matter. I should really just get a night job.
Turns out that shit makes you weepy tired and then keeps you up all night hearing things. (I'm not at all about to admit it was possibly all the ghost shows I've been watching or the ants in my bathroom that made me soul-jarringly awake when I heard weird noises last night. It must have been the meds.) As a result I saw, or rather listened with eyes tightly shut, Sports Center about 5,000 times last night. I had to turn on the tv to shut out all the craziness in my head/ears.
To the delight of Regis' red pants on Regis & Kelly, I came in late to work today. Oops. Apparently Excedrin PM works much like my own sleep cycle - stay up all night only to really, really kick in about 7 a.m. Perhaps sleep is a defense mechanism for me, like my body is trying to tell me that the night is a good time - let's play! - but the morning is sleepy time, so don't you dare go to work, it's sleepy, sleepy time.
Luckily I'll be here until the cows come home (what time is that, exactly?), so it doesn't matter. I should really just get a night job.
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
It's official.
I'm sending in an application for "Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader?" And to prove I am not, I even had to look up the title of the gameshow to determine if "than" should be capitalized or not. Turns out I was right but I didn't know for sure. See, here's the thing. I could really use $25,000. I can think of no side job that would afford me that kind of cash, or at least I can think of no side job that I would do that would afford me that kind of cash. As I don't see any dying relatives in my future - or I should say any dying relatives who would a) have money and b) leave it to me - I've convinced myself a gameshow is the way to go.
I've thought about all the usual suspects: Millionaire & Jeopardy - not smart enough. That Truth show - not dumb enough. All the other gameshows are action oriented (i.e. dancing, singing, having a talent of some kind, trying to lure a man, staying alive for 6 weeks with a bunch of crazy people on an island, running a very physical race, etc., etc., etc.). So that leaves me with the 5th Grader show. I'll admit that I find Jeff Foxworthy's humor kind of hilarious, because I'm 10, although I haven't seen the show that many times. Maybe like 5 times altogether? But I think that's enough.
My only concern is that they'll be scared away by my advanced degree, but they really shouldn't be. In the few times I've seen the shows, I'm 50/50 (at best) on the questions. I did recently get a 3rd grade (I think) animal science question right about a woodpecker not pecking for wood but rather for insects underneath the wood. To be fair it was a T/F and I happen to know that most birdshit doesn't contain wood particles (if the exterior of my car is any indication). Really it was an educated guess not based on any actual knowledge to speak of.
The application is actually kind of involved. They want to know if you have a myspace "or similar" account. I don't think I should admit such things because what if they read something and (assuming I get chosen) say it out loud on the air for my mommy to hear? So maybe I'll say no to that one.
Another question asks: Even though it's not true, people always assume about me:
Um, how the hell should I know? One asshole at work once said he assumed I liked Britney Spears' music (back when it was very uncool to like BS), but I can't imagine very many people would assume such things about me, especially given my proclivity to give off the air of "music snob" even though I don't know shit.
Question: something about biggest risks I've taken. I definitely know I don't want to answer that one truthfully. Ouch. What's a good answer for that? Going all in at the final table of the 2005 World Series of Poker? Do you think they'd research that to see if it was true?
And shit. It wants to know if I have any surprising talents or tricks. If I did I'd be on that other gameshow with the Osborne chick.
This ones funny: "What type of organizations do you belong to? (Mensa, etc...)" hahaha! I was a member of Junior Mensa. Or at least my mom bought me a Junior Mensa puzzle game book. Does that count? (My mom's fascination with completely odd logic puzzles is almost the entire reason for my better than mediocre LSAT score.)
And finally it asks if I know anyone who graduated from an Ivy League school in the LA area? That's a bad sentence because if I didn't know better, I'd be confused as to whether they meant someone who lives in LA who went to an Ivy League school or someone who graduated from an LA Ivy League school. Luckily I know what they mean and I'm slightly insulted. Are they using my application to try and recruit smarter people to their show? Seriously uncool.
Oh and they want my SAT scores. I think I can definitely lie on those. But should I lie higher or lower? I can't tell what the purpose of this application is! Should I appear smarter or dumber than I really am? Because obviously the truth would never work.
I've thought about all the usual suspects: Millionaire & Jeopardy - not smart enough. That Truth show - not dumb enough. All the other gameshows are action oriented (i.e. dancing, singing, having a talent of some kind, trying to lure a man, staying alive for 6 weeks with a bunch of crazy people on an island, running a very physical race, etc., etc., etc.). So that leaves me with the 5th Grader show. I'll admit that I find Jeff Foxworthy's humor kind of hilarious, because I'm 10, although I haven't seen the show that many times. Maybe like 5 times altogether? But I think that's enough.
My only concern is that they'll be scared away by my advanced degree, but they really shouldn't be. In the few times I've seen the shows, I'm 50/50 (at best) on the questions. I did recently get a 3rd grade (I think) animal science question right about a woodpecker not pecking for wood but rather for insects underneath the wood. To be fair it was a T/F and I happen to know that most birdshit doesn't contain wood particles (if the exterior of my car is any indication). Really it was an educated guess not based on any actual knowledge to speak of.
The application is actually kind of involved. They want to know if you have a myspace "or similar" account. I don't think I should admit such things because what if they read something and (assuming I get chosen) say it out loud on the air for my mommy to hear? So maybe I'll say no to that one.
Another question asks: Even though it's not true, people always assume about me:
Um, how the hell should I know? One asshole at work once said he assumed I liked Britney Spears' music (back when it was very uncool to like BS), but I can't imagine very many people would assume such things about me, especially given my proclivity to give off the air of "music snob" even though I don't know shit.
Question: something about biggest risks I've taken. I definitely know I don't want to answer that one truthfully. Ouch. What's a good answer for that? Going all in at the final table of the 2005 World Series of Poker? Do you think they'd research that to see if it was true?
And shit. It wants to know if I have any surprising talents or tricks. If I did I'd be on that other gameshow with the Osborne chick.
This ones funny: "What type of organizations do you belong to? (Mensa, etc...)" hahaha! I was a member of Junior Mensa. Or at least my mom bought me a Junior Mensa puzzle game book. Does that count? (My mom's fascination with completely odd logic puzzles is almost the entire reason for my better than mediocre LSAT score.)
And finally it asks if I know anyone who graduated from an Ivy League school in the LA area? That's a bad sentence because if I didn't know better, I'd be confused as to whether they meant someone who lives in LA who went to an Ivy League school or someone who graduated from an LA Ivy League school. Luckily I know what they mean and I'm slightly insulted. Are they using my application to try and recruit smarter people to their show? Seriously uncool.
Oh and they want my SAT scores. I think I can definitely lie on those. But should I lie higher or lower? I can't tell what the purpose of this application is! Should I appear smarter or dumber than I really am? Because obviously the truth would never work.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
My errant phone is embarrassing.
I had Pilates this morning. I woke up at 5 a.m. with a head pounding and ovaries hashing it out over unpaid electricity bills. (I named my ovaries Stella and Joe. I figured it was very Tennessee Williams-esque up in there, so I named them accordingly. Stella and Joe decide to get angry and fight about stupid shit about once every three months. They used to fight more frequently but they've been on anti-depressants so it's now down to a few times a year. When they fight they throw everything out of their vacation home and toss it down the garbage shoot. It's annoying but ya know, ovaries/uteran vacation homes, right? What are you going to do?)
Needless to say I was not in the mood to be all bendy this morning - especially at a god awful early hour. I decided to text J and tell her I wouldn't be making it. My phone has a tendency to send my text messages to random people. I'll specifically pick someone from my contact list to text and when it's sending it will send a message to my mom, for instance. This morning I was very careful and pulled J's name out of my contact list. I deliberately typed: "Period. Headache. Gross. Staying in." As I was tossing the phone back into its trusty bedside drawer (where it sleeps), it starts singing at me tell me I have a return message. I look and it's from my gay boyfriend C. Love him! He writes me: "And it's raining. I'm staying in too."
Shit. My phone sent my period excuse text not only not to J but also to a boy! Argh! Luckily it's C and he totally understands but still. Is it really necessary for my phone to inform my entire contact list of the goings-on of Stella and Joe?
I need a new phone...
Needless to say I was not in the mood to be all bendy this morning - especially at a god awful early hour. I decided to text J and tell her I wouldn't be making it. My phone has a tendency to send my text messages to random people. I'll specifically pick someone from my contact list to text and when it's sending it will send a message to my mom, for instance. This morning I was very careful and pulled J's name out of my contact list. I deliberately typed: "Period. Headache. Gross. Staying in." As I was tossing the phone back into its trusty bedside drawer (where it sleeps), it starts singing at me tell me I have a return message. I look and it's from my gay boyfriend C. Love him! He writes me: "And it's raining. I'm staying in too."
Shit. My phone sent my period excuse text not only not to J but also to a boy! Argh! Luckily it's C and he totally understands but still. Is it really necessary for my phone to inform my entire contact list of the goings-on of Stella and Joe?
I need a new phone...
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
I'm totally boring today because I'm sleep deprived.
BUT there was a small victory around the office today. The boss ordered these delicious cookies and brownies for Admin Prof Day from the place I always recommend (soooo goood!), and I abstained. It wasn't a day to appreciate me or anything so it wasn't terribly difficult to do, although I did sniff the brownie box - repeatedly.
Is there a regular employee day? There's a Boss's Day and an Admin Day but what about the rest of us? I once asked my mom why there wasn't a Kid Day since there was a Mother's Day and Father's Day (or is it Mothers' and Fathers'?), and she said everyday was a Kid Day. Although I still call bullshit on that argument, it's validity is a lot stronger for kids than regular working stiffs. So how come we don't get a damn day?
The reason I'm sleep deprived? Two prong. I became rabidly obsessed with finding a crack for a stupid online game last night. I mean, seriously. Cake Mania 2 is not worth it. But when I'm obsessed, look out, especially if I'm obsessed with something completely devoid of worth. And then I had to wake up at the ass crack of dawn for my fucking Pilates class. It was good though. We learned some weird leg/push up thing that basically looks like you're rock climbing only you're doing it across the floor. I can't remember the name of it. Basically you get in runners pose (that weird stretch running type people do with your hands on the ground, one leg bent over your ankle, and one leg extended behind you), you climb your hands out in front of you, one at a time, until you're in a push up position with both legs out behind you, do a push up (or use the opportunity to cry, if you're me), then bring the leg that wasn't bent before up under you in another runner's pose, climb your hands out to a push up postion again, etc., etc., etc. You do it all the way across the dance room studio floor thing. If you're doing it right you look like you're rock climbing across the floor with while doing push ups. It's very impressive. If you're doing it wrong, like me, you look like you're doing some weird sort of bear crawl across the ground. I never could do cartwheels either.
No inchworm though this week, Squishy. Maybe next week.
Is there a regular employee day? There's a Boss's Day and an Admin Day but what about the rest of us? I once asked my mom why there wasn't a Kid Day since there was a Mother's Day and Father's Day (or is it Mothers' and Fathers'?), and she said everyday was a Kid Day. Although I still call bullshit on that argument, it's validity is a lot stronger for kids than regular working stiffs. So how come we don't get a damn day?
The reason I'm sleep deprived? Two prong. I became rabidly obsessed with finding a crack for a stupid online game last night. I mean, seriously. Cake Mania 2 is not worth it. But when I'm obsessed, look out, especially if I'm obsessed with something completely devoid of worth. And then I had to wake up at the ass crack of dawn for my fucking Pilates class. It was good though. We learned some weird leg/push up thing that basically looks like you're rock climbing only you're doing it across the floor. I can't remember the name of it. Basically you get in runners pose (that weird stretch running type people do with your hands on the ground, one leg bent over your ankle, and one leg extended behind you), you climb your hands out in front of you, one at a time, until you're in a push up position with both legs out behind you, do a push up (or use the opportunity to cry, if you're me), then bring the leg that wasn't bent before up under you in another runner's pose, climb your hands out to a push up postion again, etc., etc., etc. You do it all the way across the dance room studio floor thing. If you're doing it right you look like you're rock climbing across the floor with while doing push ups. It's very impressive. If you're doing it wrong, like me, you look like you're doing some weird sort of bear crawl across the ground. I never could do cartwheels either.
No inchworm though this week, Squishy. Maybe next week.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Damn Time Change!!!
Warning: rant ahead
Why, oh why, is it necessary to change the motherf**cking clock twice a year? In Texas it gets dark at what, 7:30 p.m.? Now with a time change it will get dark at 8:30. Give us a month or so and we'll be seeing the sun set at 10:15. I don't know about anyone else but I do not need that much sunlight. And, quite frankly, I couldn't give a shit about those that do. Why do the freaks of nature who like running at 9 o'clock at night get to dictate the amount of sunshine I'm supposed to be exposed to?
I LIKE coming home from the gym at 7:00 and feeling good about locking myself indoors for the rest of the evening. I DO NOT LIKE joining the neighbors for a beer on the patio with mosquitos eating me up, all because it's a freaking "beautiful night." Screw beautiful nights. You know what's beautiful? Watching Jon Stewart's pasty face and enjoying beach weather via reruns of The Golden Girls.
If holing up in my house with a blanket and darkness surrounding me is wrong, I don't want to be right. And red wine never tastes as good in the daylight. Just saying.
See what daylight savings time does to me? Loss of hour = less sleep = tiredness = grumpiness = blog rant.
One more irritating point: the whole "fall back" thing? doesn't happen until November. So we have one extra hour of daylight for 8 months and one extra hour of darkness for only 4 months. What's fair about that? Daylight savings time unfairly benefits happy people. Surely this is a violation of the due process or commerce clause, right? Ugh.
Why, oh why, is it necessary to change the motherf**cking clock twice a year? In Texas it gets dark at what, 7:30 p.m.? Now with a time change it will get dark at 8:30. Give us a month or so and we'll be seeing the sun set at 10:15. I don't know about anyone else but I do not need that much sunlight. And, quite frankly, I couldn't give a shit about those that do. Why do the freaks of nature who like running at 9 o'clock at night get to dictate the amount of sunshine I'm supposed to be exposed to?
I LIKE coming home from the gym at 7:00 and feeling good about locking myself indoors for the rest of the evening. I DO NOT LIKE joining the neighbors for a beer on the patio with mosquitos eating me up, all because it's a freaking "beautiful night." Screw beautiful nights. You know what's beautiful? Watching Jon Stewart's pasty face and enjoying beach weather via reruns of The Golden Girls.
If holing up in my house with a blanket and darkness surrounding me is wrong, I don't want to be right. And red wine never tastes as good in the daylight. Just saying.
See what daylight savings time does to me? Loss of hour = less sleep = tiredness = grumpiness = blog rant.
One more irritating point: the whole "fall back" thing? doesn't happen until November. So we have one extra hour of daylight for 8 months and one extra hour of darkness for only 4 months. What's fair about that? Daylight savings time unfairly benefits happy people. Surely this is a violation of the due process or commerce clause, right? Ugh.
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